


Insatiate #11

by voleuse



Category: The Office (US)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-05-29
Updated: 2006-05-29
Packaged: 2017-10-04 06:47:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voleuse/pseuds/voleuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>Whatever happens, this is.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Insatiate #11

**Author's Note:**

> Set after 2.01. Title and summary adapted from Adrienne Rich's _The Floating Poem, Unnumbered_.

Roy isn't home by the time Pam stumbles in. It takes her three attempts, but she manages to hit the right speed-dial on her cellphone. Over the static, the background noise, and her own disorientation, Roy mumbles something about hanging out at Darryl's tonight.

Pam doesn't remember whether he hung up first, or if she dropped her cellphone in the bathtub by accident. It doesn't matter.

She takes a moment to stare fondly at her shoes, then wrestles out of her clothes and tumbles into bed. She's awake, and the buzz of the last three half-margaritas is wearing off.

She's bored and she's alone, so naturally, she calls Jim. He answers on the third ring, and his voice is a little hoarse.

"Coffee was such a bad idea," she confides. "I mean, I know it's supposed to help with the alcohol, but I can't even close my eyes now."

A pause. "Doesn't Roy want to talk?" Jim asks.

"He's still out," Pam replies. "At Darryl's."

"Ah." Jim prolongs the word, and it swirls around her. She hears a rustle of cloth, and then Jim chuckles. "So you thought you'd deprive me of sleep."

And she's suddenly very, very aware she's just wearing a tank top and panties. "Yeah, well," she says, pulling the sheets over her hips. "Caffeine was your bright idea, and--"

"You shouldn't be the only one to suffer," he finishes. "Logical."

"Sorry." Pam snuggles into the mattress for that extra bit of warmth. The cotton feels good, smoothing against her legs. "I can let you sleep."

"No, it's cool, it's just." He clears his throat. "Something on your mind?"

"Oh, you know." She bites her lip, teases the elastic of her panties with her middle finger. "Work. Global warming. Noah Wyle's next TV movie."

"The usual."

"Exactly." She shifts, closes her eyes. "What about you?"

"Also the usual." Jim takes a deep breath, and it sounds a little like the ocean. "Pandacam. It's a tough addiction to quit."

She trails her hand up, pausing at her belly button, circling, then moving lower.

"Pam?"

"Yeah, I'm here," she murmurs. "Just. Talk to me, okay?" She parts her legs, just barely, and slides her fingers between.

"Okay." He clears his throat again. "Okay. Well."

"Tell me about, um." She bends a knee, bites her lip for a second. "A movie. Your third favorite."

Jim laughs, a low burst, and begins to hem and haw. She teases him, and mostly manages not to gasp as he tells her the story.

If he knows what she's doing, he never mentions it. And neither does she.


End file.
